


Miranda Rights

by Salmon_Pink



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Bondage, Community: kink_bingo, Costume Kink, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Uniforms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 16:05:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4528416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salmon_Pink/pseuds/Salmon_Pink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's an interesting contradiction, that Dick's wearing his police uniform and it makes him look so good it should be <i>illegal</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Miranda Rights

**Author's Note:**

> Set before _Infinite Crisis_. Written for [Kink Bingo](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org), prompt "uniforms".

The first words out of Roy’s mouth are, “Officer Grayson, I’ve been a _bad_ boy.” Said in his most ridiculous porn star voice, shoulders pressed back against the bricks and hips canted forward, and it’s cheesy as hell and apparently _exactly_ the right thing to say. Because it makes Dick freeze, blinking at Roy in surprise, and there’s a little twitch at the corner of Dick’s mouth that’s maybe a smile he’s trying to suppress.

And that’s the purpose of this visit. Because these days, Dick actually tries to _hide_ his smiles, and that just won’t do. 

He needs a break from this lone wolf routine, this ‘don’t you dare call me Batman, even though I’m acting way too like him to be comfortable’ hole he’s digging himself into.

Roy’s decided he’s going to be the one to drag Dick out of it. Even if it’s just for the night, just for a few _minutes_. Dick’s been holding his breath too long in this craphole of city - he’s got to come up for air occasionally or he’ll drown in Bludhaven’s filth.

Roy pushes away from the wall, saunters forward, hands pushed in his pockets, swagger in his step.

Dick opens and closes his mouth, eyes cutting down the twist of alleys they’re in. “I’m on duty,” he says, voice not as flat and uninterested as he’s probably aiming for.

Roy lets his eyes drag over Dick _slow_. “You sure are,” he agrees, actively leering, because Dick fills out that cop uniform _real_ nice. 

Roy sees Dick in his skin-tight Nightwing duds every time the Outsiders have a mission, and then there was an entire adolescence spent around Dick in the Robin shorts. 

But there’s something about seeing Dick dressed up as a police officer that’s a whole new level of _indecent_.

Maybe it’s because it’s not even _pretend_ \- this isn’t an undercover mission, this isn’t roleplay, this is the real deal. Pressed trousers that still hold the crease even though Dick’s been on shift a few hours now, crisp white shirt that tapers in at the waist but still hides how lean Dick is, dull light in the alley bouncing off Dick’s badge. Even his _shoes_ are polished to a high-shine.

Dick looks respectable, clean-cut, wholesome.

Roy wants to make a _mess_ of him.

He gets in Dick’s space, and there’s a part of him that’s nervous Dick will pull back, that’s expecting the brush-off. But Dick isn’t moving away, not even when Roy slides a finger through his belt loop and tugs Dick closer.

“I’ve been _bad_ ,” Roy says again, and he’s trying for the exaggerated sex voice again, but it comes out too earnest, too close to a _growl_. “You gonna read me my rights?”

And there it is, that twitch of Dick’s lips again. A couple of years ago, that would have been a full smile, maybe with an affectionate roll of Dick’s eyes, because he’s never been able to resist when the puns start getting wince-inducing. But now it’s just that quirk of his mouth, and Roy _has_ to kiss at it, hard and rough.

That pessimistic voice in his head is still braced for Dick to shove him away, tell Roy to head home, insist he has work to do. 

Instead, Dick’s arms wrap tight around Roy’s waist, and he tilts his head to make the kiss _deeper_.

Fuck, he _knew_ Dick needed this.

Hell, Roy should have tried it _sooner_.

They stumble back across the alley, Roy’s teeth in Dick’s bottom lip, Dick’s hands in Roy’s hair. The chainlink fence they end up against creaks unhappily under the push of their bodies, but Roy’s too distracted, pulling at the back of Dick’s shirt, untucking it from his trousers.

“You’re gonna muss up my uniform,” Dick murmurs against his mouth.

Roy shoves his hand up under the shirt and pulls back just enough to flash Dick a grin that’s Nightwing-levels of obnoxious. “That’s the plan.”

And that actually gets him a _smile_. It’s small, but it’s there, and it feels like a damn _victory_. 

Roy crushes their mouths together and groans against Dick’s lips. 

The chainlink fence has a bit of give to it, so when he grinds his hips forward against Dick’s, the metal sways and sinks behind Dick’s body. Roy gets the fingers of one hand pressed between the metal links beside Dick’s head, the other firmly gripping Dick’s ass.

Dick probably feels Roy’s thumb unflick the clasp attaching his handcuffs to his belt, but he’s clearly up for playing along, so he doesn’t say anything. Not even when Roy pushes his wrist back against the fence, casually cuffing him to the metal.

“We both know you can get out of those _easily_ ,” Roy whispers against Dick’s ear, and the heat of his breath gets him a shiver. “But you’re not going to, are you?”

Dick’s eyes are bright and warm, and he shakes his head silently. Smiling again, like now he’s remembered how, he can’t stop.

It’s fucking _beautiful_.

Roy noses against Dick’s neck, presses open-mouthed kisses there. He wants to leave _marks_ , wants to suck bruises into the skin, but that’s probably a step too far. Too difficult for Dick to hide when he leaves the alley and steps back into his good-boy cop world, and Roy’s still amazed he’s getting to _have_ this, he doesn’t want to do anything that might bring it crashing to a halt.

So instead he sinks to his knees.

He looks up just in time to see Dick’s eyelashes flutter, head falling back against the fence.

Roy’s mouth suddenly feels _really_ dry. 

“Please, Officer Grayson,” he manages to croak, thumbs framing the obvious hard length of Dick’s cock through his trousers. “How can I convince you to not arrest me?”

And Dick actually _laughs_. Husky little exhale of breath, and Roy _has_ to reward him by mouthing across Dick’s crotch, feeling the heat beneath the fabric, feeling the little jump of Dick’s cock when Roy pulls his lips over the head.

“Seems like you already have a few ideas,” Dick teases, free hand petting Roy’s hair, and Roy smirks and starts working on the stiff leather of Dick’s belt. Dragging the zipper of his fly down with his teeth just to show off, and Dick’s hips push forward, handcuffs clinking against the metal fence where his other arm remains pinned.

Roy eases the waistband of Dick’s short down, and if his mouth felt dry before, now it’s fucking _watering_. Dick’s flushed the prettiest red, the head of his cock a little wet already with how much he _wants_ this. Familiar flavour across Roy’s tongue when he licks a line from root to tip, and he gets a bitten-off moan when he rocks forward on his knees and swallows Dick down.

This never gets old. 

He kind of wants to play a little, draw things out while he’s actually got Dick in an agreeable mood. But Dick’s on duty and, more than that, Roy’s feeling _seriously_ impatient. That heavy weight in his mouth, tongue tracing patterns across the thick veins, softer flesh of the head nudging against the roof of his mouth. He’s always loved this, loved letting all his focus zone in on making Dick feel good, on pushing him higher. Sucking in those hard pulses that always make Dick gasp and buck his hips just a little _wild_ , and Roy holds him firm, pushing him back against the fence, and opens his throat.

Dick starts keening above him, these noises that are so hungry they’re bordering on _distressed_. When Roy pulls back, mouth still working the head of Dick’s cock, he gets the sight of Dick’s spine arched, hips pushed out into Roy’s solid grip. One arm still distractedly pulling at the cuffs, the other over his head, clinging to the fence like a lifeline. 

Roy goes back to fucking his mouth on the length of Dick’s cock, and tries to burn the image into his mind. Taking him deep and fast, until it’s a challenge to even _breathe_ , but that’s when Roy likes it best. Nothing else in his head but the hum of his pulse and every one of Dick’s helpless sounds, this perfect echo that bounces all the way through Roy’s body.

He knows when Dick’s about to come, and, _fuck_ , he wants to pull back, wants to watch Dick spill all over himself. Stain up that uniform, getting it nice and dirty. Pop the buttons, rip the fabric, tear the seams. Get Dick laid out beneath him so he can take his _time_ , until Dick won’t be able to get dressed for work every morning without remembering Roy’s hands on him.

He doesn’t pull back, though. Roy takes everything Dick gives him, feeling Dick’s cock twitch against his tongue before he gets that flood of wet _heat_ as Dick comes in his mouth. Sucking softer now, because he knows from experience how _sensitive_ it feels when the pressure keeps coming, but not being able to resist milking Dick a little, getting all he can from him.

Dick’s sagged against the fence when Roy sits back on his heels, breathing slow and deep as he tries to get himself under control, face turned and pressed to his bicep. Hand still clinging to the fence, knuckles gone white. 

Roy drops a hand to squeeze his own cock through his jeans, admiring his handiwork.

Of course, by the time he rolls back up to his feet, Dick’s already fastening the now-open handcuffs back to his belt, the flashy little shit. He does himself up quickly, fly and belt, shirt tucked back in. Still some colour in his cheeks, hair still looking kind of tousled where his head was thrown back against the fence. But already settling back into the uniform and everything it means, already back to looking trim and proper.

It’s a damn shame.

“So, think I convinced you to let me go?” Roy asks, sliding an arm around Dick’s waist. Creasing his shirt up a little, just so Dick will swat at his hands and straighten it back out. “Or do you need more _persuasion_?”

Dick shoots him a sideways look, that playful gleam in his eyes that’s always made Roy punch-drunk and ready to jump off buildings. “Why, you wanna play some more with my _nightstick_?”

Roy snorts, pulls Dick in again by his hips. Pointedly rocking them together, so Dick can feel what he _does_ to Roy. “Yeah, maybe I do, Officer. You wanna play with _mine_?”

Dick glances down the alley again, biting his lip. But when he looks back at Roy, his expression is _sultry_. “Anything for a citizen in need,” he deadpans, and Roy has to kiss him silent as Dick’s hands dutifully open up his jeans.

Roy’s already decided he’s going to be waiting for Dick at his place when his shift is over. 

After all, Roy’s still got all _kinds_ of ideas for Officer Grayson and his uniform.


End file.
